


fueling the fire until we combust

by treatwinchesterswithkindness



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Aftercare, D/s, Daddy Kink, Dirty Talk, Dom Sam Winchester, Dom/sub, Eventual Smut, F/M, Face Slapping, Fluff, Fluff and Smut, Fluffy Ending, Light Dom/sub, Name-Calling, Possessive Sam Winchester, Reader is a little bit of a brat, Rough Sex, Sir Kink, Smut, Spanking, Valentine's Day
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-26
Updated: 2021-03-02
Packaged: 2021-03-17 13:22:13
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 8,268
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29717808
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/treatwinchesterswithkindness/pseuds/treatwinchesterswithkindness
Summary: Sam and Reader have just gotten back to the bunker from separate hunts. They haven't seen each other in awhile, and it's Valentine's Day. Sam surprises his baby with roses and a special dinner date, but Reader's acting like a brat at the restaurant. And that doesn't fly with Sam Freakin' Winchester. She's in for it now.
Relationships: Sam Winchester/Reader, Sam Winchester/You
Comments: 4
Kudos: 15





	1. fueling the fire until we combust

**Author's Note:**

> a/n: Hi everyone!! thank you for finding my piece here :) This is the first thing I've written for Sam, so leave me some feedback if you want! I'd really appreciate knowing what you think!

The rumble of your friend’s car faded away as you swung open the heavy door to the bunker. You were tired and pretty beat up from the hunt you’d just returned from. Nothing too bad, just the general scrapes and bruises that came with every hunt.  
Your friend had called you several days ago saying she needed backup on a case, and since Sam and Dean were off on a hunt of their own, you were more than happy to oblige. Anything was better than sitting around the bunker by yourself. It was such a big space for one person to occupy, so whenever the boys weren’t home, you were itching for something to do.  
Not that you regretted going on the hunt, but you were exhausted. You stumbled down the stairs, wincing a little from your fresh bruises, and down the hall to your room. You grabbed a towel and some fresh clothes that weren’t covered in monster slime and blood and headed to the bathroom. All you wanted was to sleep, but there was no way you were going anywhere near your bed like this.  
You turned on the shower and waited until you could see the water steaming before stripping, tossing your clothes in the general direction of the hamper, and ducking under the spray of the hot water. You watched as the water rinsed away the dirt and grime, and it disappeared swirling down the drain. Your fingertips scrubbed lightly on your scalp as you lathered the shampoo through your hair and rinsed it through twice.  
When you were finished staring down at your feet and letting the hot water rush over you (a guilty pleasure of yours and the reason for your long showers), you turned the water off, wrapped yourself in a fluffy towel, and climbed out and into the steamy bathroom. The mirror was fogged up, and the small space was getting too warm for you, so you slipped on some sleep shorts and a t-shirt and went back into your room.  
You checked the time on your phone; it was only a little after noon. You decided you had time for a quick nap before the boys got back from their hunt. You set your phone down on your dresser and stumbled the few steps in between there and your bed before collapsing in the middle of your pillows and blankets and drifting into sleep.  
~~~~  
“Baby,” you woke to a deep, gentle voice and a big hand rubbing your head. “Can you wake up for me, precious?”  
“Sam?” you mumbled sleepily, rubbing your eyes. “You’re back already?” His gentle touch brushed away the hair from your eyes, and he laughed.  
“Yeah, honey. It’s almost time for us to go. It’s already 5:30,” he said, sitting on the bed, still rubbing your head. You were used to being woken up that way, and he loved to watch your sleepy reaction to his touch.  
“Go?” you said, opening your eyes fully. “Where are we—” your voice died in your throat when you noticed what he was wearing. “Why are you wearing the fed suit? Not that I’m complaining, you know I love it on you, but—”  
He gestured to your nightstand where a vase sat, holding a dozen beautiful red roses. “It’s Valentine’s Day. So if you’ll do me the honor of being my Valentine, I’ve got some plans for our evening that I think you’ll love.” You nodded smiling, and for a split second, you thought you saw a wicked gleam in his kind eyes, but after another glance, all you saw was his adoring gaze looking back at you. “Can you get up and get ready for me? I promise it’ll be fun, princess.”  
You nodded, and Sam stood up to leave so you could start getting ready. He started for the door before pausing and turning halfway around, “Oh, and wear anything you want of course, Y/n. Just know I’m partial to that little red dress that looks so good on you.” He winked and left, closing the door gently behind him.  
~~~~  
You took one last look in the mirror, satisfied with your outfit choice and the way you’d done your hair. It was done in your favorite style, which just so happened to be one of Sam’s favorites as well. He loved your hair any way you did it though. You slipped on a pair of pumps to go with the red dress Sam had requested and turned, admiring yourself in the mirror. You weren’t vain by any means, but this dress-- it gave you a certain level of confidence you didn’t usually have. The way the dress hugged your body, accentuated your curves— you loved it, and you knew Sam did too.  
Your heels clacked as you walked down the hall to the library, in search of Sam. There he was: sitting at the table, nose in a book as usual.  
“Consulting the lore again?” you laughed, causing him to look up. “We don’t even have a case right now.” His eyes traveled up and down your body, almost hungrily, as if he were undressing you with his eyes. You suppressed another laugh, and he shook himself out of his stupor, clearing his throat.  
“Um-- wow,” he stuttered, his eyes finding yours again. “You look beautiful, sweetheart.”  
“Thank you, baby. Are you ready to go?” you smiled. Sam stood, still blushing slightly in your opinion, grabbed the keys to Baby and your hand, and you both headed out the door.  
~~~~  
Sam brought the car to a halt in the parking lot of your favorite restaurant, the same place you’d gone after Sam had first asked you out. He got out first and hurried to the passenger side to open your door.  
As he opened the creaky door and offered you his hand to help you up, you wondered what he’d done to gain possession of the Impala for their date night.  
“Hey, how’d you get Dean to give you the car for the night? I thought Valentine’s Day was his favorite holiday, ‘unattached drifter Christmas’ or whatever he calls it,” you laughed, as you climbed out, careful not to roll your ankle in your heels.  
Standing straight up next to Sam, even with four-inch heels on, you still only barely came up to his chest. Another thing for him to tease you relentlessly about (and he did), but you secretly loved your height difference. If anything, it just made you feel tiny in the best way possible, especially in the bedroom, when Sam came close and towered over you, always remembering to check if you were comfortable with the situation before proceeding. With a tiny nod of your head though, he made you feel absolutely helpless to defend yourself against him. You couldn’t get enough.  
He took your hand and closed the door, chuckling at Dean’s favorite nickname for the day and leading you towards the restaurant, “He’s passed out back at the bunker. Guess old age is catching up to him,” Sam shrugged, smiling. “I left him my keys in case he wants to go somewhere before we get back.” He raised his eyebrows at you, and you felt your cheeks flush. You looked away and kept walking alongside him, hurrying to match his strides that were much longer than yours.  
When you reached the restaurant and arrived inside, you were seated almost immediately. Sam had called ahead and gotten a reservation, and you were glad he’d thought of that because the wait must’ve been forever with how many people were there.  
The host sat you in a corner booth table, so you and Sam sat next to each other facing the rest of the restaurant. You were grateful for the high walls of the booth. You might’ve technically been in public, but right then, it was only you and him. Everything around you seemed to scream Sam. Even the restaurant itself did nothing but remind you of your first date, which seemed so long ago.  
You reached for his big hand, and it closed over yours as he looked at the menu for tonight. You only looked at him. His thumb rubbed soothingly over the back of your hand. He’d always been able to tell when you were worked up. You saw him suppressing a smirk, eyes still fixed on the menu.  
“Sam—” you whined, your leg bouncing up and down like it did when you were nervous. Or impatient. You leaned your head on his shoulder, and his right hand let go of yours and reached around your waist, pulling you even closer to him. He kissed your head quickly and held the menu where you could see it too.  
“See anything you like?” Sam asked.  
“Yeah, you,” you replied, smirking. He’d walked right into that one. I mean what’d he expect you to say?  
“For dinner,” Sam said with a smile, his fingertips dancing against your waist.  
“Hmph,” you picked out the same thing you’d gotten last time, deciding that you’d stick with what you knew was good for tonight.  
The waitress came to the table to take your orders, and after writing them down, picking up your menus, and walking away, you and Sam were back in your own little world. And this time, you held Sam’s attention.  
You squirmed in your seat, thighs sticking together, while Sam’s hand, never having left your waist, travelled up and down your side. His fingers grazed lightly over the fabric of your red dress, stopping to squeeze every so often when you got too fidgety.  
“Sam,” you whined again, your hand pressing his to your side, needing his touch.  
“Ah, ah, ah,” he tsked, pulling his hand back and unwinding his arm from you. “I decide when I want to touch you.” He scooted a few inches away from you, and you huffed, frustrated.  
“C’mon, Sam! It’s Valentine’s Day, and I haven’t seen you in forever. Just let me touch y—” You were cut off suddenly by his hand, which had a harsh grip on your thigh.  
He lowered his head until his lips were hovering right next to your ear. “I’m sorry, I know you’re not talking back to me right now. Not on Valentine’s Day.” His low voice mimicked yours, barely above a whisper, and your thighs tightened instinctively as his tone took on the menacing edge you’d come to associate with Sam’s favorite kind of “fun.”  
You swallowed with nervous excitement and said meekly, “N-no, sir.”  
“Good,” Sam said pleasantly, his hand now gripping the cold glass of his drink, instead of your thigh, as he took a sip.  
Pretty soon, the waitress brought your food, and you, for the moment at least, abandoned your efforts to get Sam’s hands on you. After all, you hadn’t eaten since earlier that morning on the way back from your hunt. Sam must’ve been hungry, too, you thought, since he finished almost as fast as you did.  
“What do you think, Y/n? Dessert?” Sam smirked, clearly teasing you now. You rolled your eyes at his words, knowing it was all part of his plan to get you good and worked up before going back to the bunker.  
“I don’t think so,” you said dryly, tugging at his coat sleeve once again, hoping he’d take pity on you and decide it was time to leave.  
“You know what?” Sam mused, looking at the dessert menu the waitress had left when she’d picked up their plates. “I think I will get the tiramisu. Did you want anything, love?”  
You scoffed at that. Health-freak Sam Winchester was going to get dessert? And had the audacity to call you “love” when he knew good and well you were getting agitated with him? Ugh, such a difference from how he was acting back at home when he first woke you up with roses.  
“No? That’s okay, baby. You’ll have some of mine,” he said decisively, and you knew that was that. As soon as the waitress came to check on you, Sam ordered his precious tiramisu, and you pouted slightly. You knew for a fact he was just as horny as you were, and it was annoying to you that he was getting a slight release in dictating your next moves. You weighed your options for your next step, and decided Hey, it’s Valentine’s Day. Surely I can't get into that much trouble.  
You waited until the waitress brought Sam’s dessert and he had begun eating before acting. You moved your hand from your lap to his, running your fingertips up and down his thigh before settling your palm right above his knee. He didn’t react. That’s okay-- you hadn’t really expected him to. He’d probably enjoyed the graze of your nails through the slacks of his suit.  
“Open up, princess,” Sam said, holding his fork in front of your face. Your mouth fell open obediently, and he brought the fork forward into your mouth. The sweet coffee-flavored cake nearly dissolved in your mouth. Maybe dessert had been the right call, but you weren’t going to give Sam the satisfaction of seeing you enjoy it. Or maybe you would.  
Your tongue flicked out to lick your lips clean, and you watched Sam’s hungry gaze travel to your mouth. You put on a little show for him, letting your tongue linger over your bottom lip for a second longer than necessary, before barely biting down, dragging your lip between your teeth. Sam broke his stare and went back to his tiramisu. You noticed him eating a bit faster this time.  
Still too slow for you though. You moved your hand towards the inside of his thigh, trailing upwards just slightly. He didn’t seem to mind so far, so you moved a bit faster, until your hand bumped the outline of his semi-hard cock through the fabric. You brushed the heel of your hand along the tip, enjoying watching him squirm at the slight friction.  
You were feeling pretty pleased with yourself when Sam’s hand shot down and gripped your wrist, pulling your hand away from him.  
“I thought,” he growled under his breath, “that I told you I decide when to touch you. That includes you touching me.” He let go of your wrist with a glare, turning back to the table.  
You hesitated before speaking. “I know,” you chirped, placing your hand, directly onto the shaft of his dick and squeezing lightly. His semi-hardness gave away how much he was really enjoying your little game. You knew he wouldn’t take what you did lightly though, even though it was Valentine’s Day. Yes, he wanted to show you how much he loved you, but he couldn’t properly do that if he allowed you to defy him like that, especially in public.  
You could practically see an internal debate happening in Sam’s head as he tried to decide how to handle your defiance. As he was debating, the waitress came back by the table to drop off the check. Seeming to make up his mind, Sam paid the bill as the waitress thanked you both for coming and wished you a pleasant evening, leaving as quickly as she’d come.  
Sam grabbed your wrist as he slid out of the booth, hauling you along with him until you stood facing him, staring into his chest. You avoided looking him in the face, but his hand came up to grip your jaw firmly, yet gently, tilting your head back to look up at him. Still, you avoided eye contact with him, that is, until he tapped his finger on your cheek, demanding your attention.  
“We’re going home now,” Sam said once he’d forced eye contact with you. His eyes gave away what was in your near future, as if his low tone didn’t give that away already. You were very familiar with that edge in his voice, though it only came out when Sam was really in the mood to be in control of the situation.  
You nodded and lowered your eyes until his hand, still on your jaw, squeezed quickly, and your eyes met his again. He raised one eyebrow at you sternly, waiting for a verbal response.  
“Yes sir,” you said quietly. You were still standing in the restaurant after all. Sam nodded once, satisfied for the time being, grabbed your wrist, and marched you out the door.  
~~~~  
As soon as the two of you stepped through the door of the bunker, Sam quickened his pace, brushing past you as you stopped and hesitated in the hallway. You weren’t sure if he wanted you to follow him to his room or wait for him in yours.  
As if he’d read your mind, he called over his shoulder without slowing down, “Go to your room, sit on the bed, and wait for me.” You watched him walk down the hallway towards his room, taking his jacket off as he turned through the doorway.  
Left alone in the hallway, you turned back towards your room. After going through the doorway, you hesitate. Sam didn’t specify where exactly on the bed he wanted you or what he wanted you to wear. Finally, you sat down on the edge of the bed, back straight with anticipation. No way could you relax until you knew what Sam had planned for you. And knowing him, you definitely wouldn’t be relaxing then either. You didn’t even bother taking your shoes off; you figured if he’d wanted them off, he would’ve said so.  
After you’d been sitting there for a few minutes, you heard Sam’s footsteps echoing in the hallway, coming towards you. The longer you’d sat there, the more nervous you’d become, and Sam knew that. You were willing to bet he’d let you sit there and wait on purpose, as part of his dominance act. But you could hear him now, and your thighs clenched together involuntarily as he approached.  
It felt like forever, but finally his tall frame appeared in the doorway. In his hands, he held a gift box tied with a fancy red ribbon. You felt his gaze on you, but you couldn’t meet his eyes, instead opting to watch his feet, loving how confidently he moved, how sure he was of himself. He walked up to you, stopping at your knees, so that you were staring into his torso.  
“Look at me,” he commanded you, and you, not wanting to test him anymore, tilted your head back to make eye contact with him immediately. He set the box beside you on the bed and took your face into his hands. “Now, listen to me carefully, little girl. You’re going to take this box into the bathroom, change into what’s inside, and come back out wearing exactly what’s in the box, no more, no less. Understand me?”  
“Yes sir,” you whispered.  
“What was that?” he asked, raising his eyebrow again.  
You cleared your throat and said a bit louder, “Yes sir.”  
“Good girl,” he said, kissing your forehead once and releasing your face from his hands. You got up from the bed, went into the bathroom, and shut the door.  
You set the box on the counter, untied the ribbon, and opened the lid. Inside was a strappy black bra made of sheer lace, matching panties, and garter set nestled in the middle of red tissue paper. You held the pieces up, and felt your cheeks flush at the thought of Sam’s eyes on you in that. You dropped it back into the box and began wiggling out of your tight little red dress. Finally, your dress hit the floor, along with the bra and panties you’d been wearing. You put on the new outfit Sam had given you and checked your hair and makeup in the mirror. After a deep breath to calm your nerves, you opened the door and stepped back into the bedroom.


	2. can't touch us

Sam was sitting in your armchair over by the wall across from the end of your bed, leaning back, legs spread wide as he waited for you to finish changing. He looked up as you stepped out of the bathroom, and his lips curved into a wicked smile. Sometime since ditching his jacket in his room, he had rolled up the sleeves of his white button-up; you knew he was well aware of what that did to you. His hand resting on the arm of the chair lazily beckoned you closer. You took small timid steps towards him.  
“C’mere, kitten,” he said, readjusting himself in the chair. You came closer, and he reached out his arm and gestured for you to sit on his right knee. You perched softly on him, still holding up most of your weight with your legs in between his legs. His big hands grabbed around your waist, picking you up and guiding you further onto his lap, so that your toes barely touched the ground. You looked down and saw the outline of his thick cock visible through his black dress pants, and all you wanted to do was touch it. But you knew that would get you in more trouble, so you placed the heel of your hand on the end of his knee to steady yourself instead.  
“Now,” Sam said in a low voice, “would you like to tell me what you’ve done wrong tonight?” He leaned forward to look at you and placed his arm over your lap to grasp your thigh.  
You swallowed, and your voice was shaky when you spoke, “Umm, I… talked back to you…”  
“And?”  
“And I touched you--” you had stopped speaking, but Sam’s hand around your waist squeezed hard, and you squeaked out “--even when you’d already told me not to.”  
“Right,” Sam said sternly, turning your head towards him with his hand. “And why did you think that was okay to do? You know better.”  
“I don’t know. I’m sorry, sir,” you said in a voice just barely above a whisper.  
“I don’t know isn’t an answer, Y/n,” Sam said, looking you in the eye and threading his fingers up your neck and into your hair to hold you still. He repeated a little more forcefully, “Why did you do what you did? Do not make me ask again.”  
“I wanted to tease you, because I didn’t think I’d get in trouble today,” you said in a rush, wanting to get it over with.  
Sam raised his eyebrow and huffed in surprise, “Didn’t think you’d get in trouble? Well, babygirl, guess you were wrong about that.” He hooked his left arm under your knees, right arm around your back, and lifted you as he stood up. “I think you need to be reminded who’s in charge here. That’s okay, princess. We’re gonna fix that right now.”  
He threw you onto the bed on your back, but before you could get comfortable, he grabbed your legs and dragged you to the edge of the bed, flipping your body over so that your legs hung off the side, toes resting on the ground. You could feel Sam standing behind you, his hands gripping your hips tightly. He yanked you backwards, just a bit more until your feet were flat on the floor, and his hips were flush against your ass. His cock strained against the fabric of his pants, and he let a sigh of relief as he grinded against you. You let out a quiet moan and turned your head to look back at him.  
“Uh uh,” Sam snapped, and his hand smacked the side of your ass sharply. You yelped, and Sam said, “Eyes forward.” You turned back around, your cheeks flushed red with embarrassment. He shouldn’t have had to tell you to face the front, you knew better.  
“Do you know your colors, little girl?” Sam asked you, slightly softer now, and you knew this was his way of making sure you were okay with everything that was about to happen. You nodded your head, and Sam said, “No, use your words, baby.”  
“Red, yellow, green, sir,” you listed off quickly.  
“Good, and what’s your color right now?” Sam asked gently, hands now rubbing your ass over the lace of the new panties he’d given you.  
“Green, sir,” you whimpered, voice laced with anticipation. As soon as the word left your lips, you felt Sam step back, his hands leaving you, and you whined again at the loss of contact, but stayed where he’d put you. You heard Sam move somewhere behind you and felt a rush of air as the first smack came down on the sensitive skin of your ass. Your body jolted forward as the force of his hand pushed you up the bed, and you yelped in surprise.   
His hand grabbed your waist and pulled you back to where you’d been a second ago. This time he kept his hand pressing firmly down on your lower back, keeping you in place while he yanked your panties down and off. He crouched down and blew a long, cool breath onto your exposed cunt. You whined and thrashed a little, already so sensitive for him. He chuckled darkly, and you felt his presence leave you as he stood a few steps away.  
The second smack was even harder than the first, and you closed your eyes tightly, burying your face in the comforter. Your hands moved from resting beside your head to fisting the sheets. You struggled not to let out a cry and held on as the swats got faster and harder.  
Yeah, it hurt, and it stung, but you’d be lying if you said you didn’t love the burn. With his big hands, Sam could inflict a hell of a lot of pain, but somehow with you, he was always loving, even when he spanked you until tears ran down your cheeks.   
Like now, it was physically impossible for you not to cry out with every smack of his hand. You couldn’t tell which was worse, the burning on your ass or the heat in the pit of your stomach. It wasn’t your fault that being punished for bad behavior turned you on like nothing else. And the heat became more and more intense with every slap.   
You could hear Sam grunting with effort, and even as he stopped, he was breathing hard. He stood behind you again, both hands on your now red ass, feeling the heat rise off of it. He ran one finger delicately up the slit of your pussy and hummed his approval.  
“Oh, you’re soaked for me, aren’t you baby?” He rasped, his voice low and gruff, loving the way you sounded so desperate for him. “Bet you like that, huh? Listen to yourself, my little slut can’t help but cry for me.”  
He let his finger hover over your dripping hole, teasing you, and your hips involuntarily moved back, searching for more. You heard the smack before you felt it this time, his hand coming down loud on your ass, forcing a whimper from you.  
“Behave, kitten,” Sam growled. You went limp again under his hands, too tired already to resist his commands, and he wasn’t even close to finished with you. He ran the tips of his fingers over your ass and up your back, light soothing touches that he knew you liked to help ground you. “Now, do you think you’ve learned your lesson, baby? Not to disobey me again, especially in public, when I’m trying to take you out for a nice date?”  
“Mhmm,” you whined into the comforter. Sam answered with another several hard smacks on both sides of your ass. You hissed at the contact. The familiar burn that had faded slightly came rushing back, causing your legs to twitch and heat to shoot straight to your core.  
“Nope,” He said, popping the “p” and twisting his fingers into the roots of your hair, pulling you upward and causing you to arch your back. You could see his snarl out of the corner of your eye. “You’re gonna answer me out loud or I’m gonna put you over my knee, and believe me, that’ll be a lot worse for you. Let’s try this again: have you learned your lesson?”   
“Yes, sir!” You cried, much louder than before. “Yes, I promise I have. Please!” The waiting was getting too much for you to bear, and your voice slipped into the tone you only used for begging.  
“Are you gonna be a good girl for me, princess?” he sneered, turning your face towards him and coming much closer. God, he’s intimidating, you thought as more tears welled in your eyes, and at least you knew he’d never truly hurt you. Wouldn’t wanna be his enemy. No way.   
“Yes, sir! I’ll be good for you! Just-- please-- please--” you paused, panting, almost sobbing now, not entirely sure what you were begging for. You just needed him, desperately. His light touch, his scent-- it was all too much without fully having him. You wanted him inside you, now.  
“Please what, little girl?” Sam’s gravelly voice hissed. He let go of your hair, pushing off like he was disgusted with you so that you dropped back down, hard, onto the mattress.  
“Please, sir,” you gasped, taking deep breaths, fists clenching beside your head. “Please, please, fuck me! I swear, I’ll never disobey you again!” You both knew that probably wasn’t true, but your desperate begging seemed to satisfy Sam because he groaned at your words. His big hands grabbed your waist, flipping you quickly over onto your back. You hissed as your sore backside came in contact with the comforter, but Sam didn’t appear at all sympathetic.   
His hands landed on either side of your head as he hovered over you, slamming his lips into yours harshly, all technique flying completely out the window. It was all teeth and tongue and passion, and you loved it. You moaned into his mouth as he bit your lower lip, drawing back slightly, dragging it with him for a moment before letting go, all the while rutting his cloth-covered cock on your sensitive pussy.   
He threw your arms around his neck, having you hold on so you sat up slightly, while his nimble fingers swiftly undid the clasp of your bra. He pushed your shoulders back down onto the bed, and you released his neck as he dragged the lace from your arms, throwing it somewhere behind him onto the floor. It had served its purpose for the night.  
You lay on the bed, a little further up so your legs weren’t hanging off the side, and now completely naked as he stood over you, still completely clothed. You’d always sworn Sam could read your mind, and now was no different clearly, because his fingers flew down the front of his shirt, undoing all the buttons as quickly as possible. He yanked off the button-up, along with his white undershirt. Next to go were his dress shoes and socks. He kicked them off before undoing the clasp of his black leather belt and his dress pants and shoving them and his boxers down his legs. He stepped out of them and was back on top of you in a heartbeat.   
Sam kissed you again, hand fisted in your hair before moving his kisses to your jaw, then your neck, travelling downward, nipping and biting until he reached your chest. His tongue flicked over each of your now hard and pointy nipples. He took one point in his mouth, lightly sucking and licking until you were arching up into him. He rolled your other nipple in between his fingers, before his mouth moved to cover that one instead. He kept dragging the edge of his teeth along your sensitive points until you were practically crying under him.  
With Sam, you never felt unbalanced. He gave each of your tits an equal amount of attention, whether it was his hand palming and grabbing and pulling, or his warm tongue lightly teasing the sensitive skin until you practically sang his praises. You’d never understood the importance of nipple play until Sam, but he’d helped you to branch out, and at this point, you’d try almost anything if he suggested it. You highly doubted that Sam Winchester could be “bad” at anything in the bedroom.   
His mouth travelled downward still, leaving gentle kisses on your stomach, hands caressing your sides, until he knelt in between your legs, pushing you thighs open, giving him a full view of your dripping entrance. The way he looked at you was downright predatory, and you whimpered under the intensity of his gaze. “So sexy,” he whispered in a raspy voice, tongue poking out to wet his lips, “and all mine.”   
As the last word left his lips, he thrust two of his thick fingers inside of you with no warning. You gasped and moaned, arching your back up off the bed, much to Sam’s delight. He groaned loudly and fisted his cock, now dripping with pre-cum, with his other hand. He swiped his thumb over the slit, collecting the liquid on the tip of his finger.  
“Look what you’ve done to me, kitten,” he said, his voice full of lust, as he stuck his thumb onto your tongue, letting you lick it clean before hooking his thumb into the side of your cheek and jerking your head to the side, watching as you sucked on his thumb. Sam had once said that he could tell just from looking at you that you had an oral fixation, and he was definitely correct. You were so desperate for something in your mouth that almost anything would do at this point, and Sam loved to watch the way your mouth moved around his fingers.   
He fucked in and out of your pussy roughly, watching as you keened with every drag of his fingers. He yanked his other hand away from your mouth so he could press one of your thighs down flat onto the bed, effectively changing the angle of his shallow thrusts. Pressing his fingers inside of you as far as they could go, he fluttered them up and down, watching your face as your jaw dropped and you cried out in pleasure.   
“Please, sir,” you begged. “Please, I’m getting close! Can I— can I come, please, Sam?” You felt the faded heat from before come surging back, much faster than before. The coil in your stomach was growing tighter and tighter, and you fought to push it back down.   
“No.” Sam slapped your cheek with the hand that had been in your mouth, still wet from your saliva. “And what did you call me? Whose are you?”  
“Yours, Sam! Yours, sir!” you cried loudly, gasping from the smack he’d given you, the slight sting giving you a brief high. “Only ever yours, sir!”  
He grabbed your jaw in one hand forcing you to look at him, mascara and tears running down your face, just like he liked you, “You already won’t be able to sit for a week,” he growled, “and now, you won’t be able to walk either.”  
Pushing your thighs up and back, he pulled his fingers from your soaked and trembling pussy, lined himself up with your slick entrance, and thrust completely into you in one motion, forcing a guttural noise from you at the impact. Sam grunted as your walls tightened around him, and without pausing to give you time to adjust, he picked up a brutal pace. Your legs tightened around his waist, hooked over his hip bones as he practically folded you in half. He groaned at the feeling of you and intertwined his fingers with yours, pinning your wrists flat to the comforter on either side of your head. He held himself up over your body as he fucked into you, supporting most of his weight on his forearms. His teeth nipped at your shoulder, as his head dropped to plant bruising kisses all over your neck and collarbone.   
Loving the noises he drew from you, Sam had no intentions of slowing down anytime soon, and you were hurling towards your climax faster than ever. As your pussy tightened around him, he made a noise halfway between a moan and a growl, thrusting in as deep as he could, trusting you could take it. Soon enough, your cries of pain turned to whimpers of pleasure, nearly drowned out by the sound of skin on skin as his hips slapped repeatedly against your ass. Fresh tears slipped from the corners of your eyes, but you were helpless to do anything, except lie there and take it.   
“Fuck, sir! Please— I’m about to come!” you cried. “It’s so so good— Please, can I come, sir?”  
“Oh, fuck, babygirl. You’re doing so well for me. You can hold it just a bit longer, princess,” Sam moaned in your ear, holding you down still so you wouldn’t slide around from the force of his hips pistoning into you.   
“I— I can’t! Please, sir!” you were sobbing again, gasping for breath. “I just need to— Please— let me, please!” You were panting now, eyes closed tight, and every word was bringing you closer and closer to the edge.   
“Not yet, little girl,” Sam let go of your hands and pushed up off you, pulling out of you at the same time. You whined pitifully at the loss of his touch, your walls now clenching around nothing. You looked up at him and saw his brow glistening with sweat, pieces of hair clinging to his forehead. His chest rose and fell as he sucked in deep breaths. His huge hands grabbed around your waist, flipping you over onto your stomach. He yanked your hips back, pulling your ass into the air and slamming into you again, with no regard for the heat still burning in your stomach.  
“Sam, I—” he cut you off with a harsh smack on your ass, and you cried out loudly.   
“I know you didn’t just call me that again, princess,” Sam practically spat the words at you, his already low voice made even lower as he grabbed your arms, yanking you up against his chest. With that leverage, his thrusts slowed considerably, but it hardly mattered, because the new angle allowed him to hit the parts of you that only he could. You moaned desperately, recalling how before him, you hadn’t even known it was possible to feel that much that deep. You felt your walls clench again, and you were sure he felt you tighten around his thick length.   
“Tell me,” he demanded, calmer this time, reaching down to rub circles around your clit in time with his thrusts, eliciting several much higher pitched noises from your throat. “Who fucks you so good every damn time? Who owns this pussy?” His hand moved from your shoulder to your throat, not yet squeezing your airway, but pinning you to him, and effectively cutting off any other movements you’d tried to make.  
You could only moan in response. He was hitting so deep, and you couldn’t focus on anything else except his thrusts and his hands holding you against him, his hot breath panting in your ear. When you didn’t give him a sufficient answer Sam’s fingers on your sensitive clit stilled. You barely had time to register the loss before his hand came down with a smack, right where his fingers had just been. You bit back a scream, but when his hand came down on your pussy for a second time, you couldn’t help the high-pitched yelp that fell from your lips.  
“Tell me whose this is! Now.” Sam’s hand on your throat tightened quickly with the last word before loosening again to allow you to speak, or as much as you could with him pounding into you relentlessly. This time you gasped and managed to speak, your voice sounding like the words had been dragged out of you.  
“Yours, sir! It’s yours-- only ever yours! You own it, ruined me for anyone else! You fuck me so good, please-- Please, can I come, sir? Please, Daddy!” Your orgasm was so close now, it was becoming physically impossible to hold off, so you pleaded with him one last time. Using the nickname you knew he couldn’t resist, you let go of the last bit of your pride, completely submitting to the man behind you.  
Sam made a guttural noise, as his dull teeth bit into your shoulder, and you felt him start to twitch inside you. He must’ve been painfully close, too. He raised his head, rasping, “Yes, baby. You can come, been so good for me--”  
His fingers began to stroke your clit again, faster and harder, and his hand slowly tightened around your neck. You closed your eyes as you felt the overwhelming sensation begin to wash over you.  
“Yes, baby-- That’s it, kitten. Come on my cock-- lemme feel you, sweet girl. So pretty, baby… Oh--” he cut himself off with a moan as your walls constricted around him, and he let go off your throat. With the sudden intake of oxygen, your orgasm hit you like a truck, and your mouth fell open as your head dropped back on his shoulder. It was a good thing Sam was still holding you up, because had you been standing or supporting your own weight, you would’ve collapsed immediately.  
Once you found your voice, you screamed so loudly, you were positive the whole bunker knew how good Sam was to you. You cried out again as your pussy spasmed in waves, “Daddyyy-- Ohh, fuck! So good--”  
Sam groaned deeply, his hands squeezing harshly at your tits, and as your orgasm began to fade, you felt his dick twitch violently. Seconds later, he was spilling hot ropes of cum deep inside you, and you moaned again at the feeling of him. He hugged your body tightly to his front, gasping against your neck as he rode out his high. With one last push of his cock, he collapsed, on top of you, careful as always not to crush you. He lingered there for a few seconds more before gently pulling out of you, sucking in a gasp of air as he did.   
He rolled over on his back next to you, and his green eyes met your droopy ones. “How ya doin’, darling? You with me?” You whined pitifully, and he pulled you into his strong arms, holding you tightly, grounding you. “Shh, shh, shh,” he petted your hair gently as the noises from you gradually ceased.   
He held you like that for a while, letting you recover a bit before murmuring, “You’re okay, princess. My good girl, did such a good job for me, baby. My perfect, precious little girl. You wanna go get cleaned up, so we can sleep, kitten?”  
You whined again, burying your face tightly into his chest, not wanting to move or leave his arms, even for a second. Sam kissed the top of your head gently, pushing your hair back from your forehead and sighed, recognizing you were still pretty far under, “Oh, I knoww sweetheart. I promise we’ll be quick, and then we’ll come right back to bed. And I’ll put lotion on you, so you won’t be as sore tomorrow. Come on.”   
He grunted as he got up from the bed, lifting you to his chest and carrying you to the bathroom. He set you down on the toilet, making sure you went pee, before carefully lifting you into the hot bathwater he’d just prepared. You cried out for him, hands opening and closing as you reached for him.  
“It’s okay, honey,” he shushed you gently. “Daddy’s coming.” He stepped into the warm bath and settled down behind you, pulling you flush against his chest, calming you down instantly with his touch. “Okay, sweetheart. Let’s get you all cleaned up.”  
His big hands cupped the water, gently pouring it on your head, careful to avoid getting soap in your eyes as he gently washed your hair, rinsing until the bubbles disappeared. He wiped away the remnants of your makeup with a washcloth, mascara smudged with tears and glittery bits of eyeshadow. You leaned against him the whole time, feeling dazed still from your post-sex haze, and unwilling to part from him, his very touch soothing you. Tucked into his chest, eyes closed, you let Sam’s hands wash all over your body, massaging most of the tightness and soreness from your tired muscles.  
Once he was finished, he pulled on the drain, letting all the soapy water start to slowly spiral away. He stepped out first onto the bath mat, grabbing several fluffy towels from the rack near the tub and drying off quickly, before taking your hand and helping you stand. You held onto his strong arms as you climbed over the tall edge of the tub. Once you were standing steadily on the bath mat, Sam wrapped the soft, warm towel around your shoulders, rubbing down your legs with another to help you dry off.   
You sniffled and rubbed your eyes as Sam helped you into a bathrobe. He cupped your face in his hands, looking into your eyes, and kissing you on the forehead. Sam tugged the robe tighter around you before tying it closed. He slipped on a clean pair of boxers and took your hand, leading you back into the bedroom. He helped you climb up onto the bed and lie down.   
You hissed as the fabric of the bed came in contact with your sore and tingling ass and the bruised backs of your thighs. You whimpered and rolled over quickly onto your stomach to relieve the pressure, looking up at Sam pitifully from under long eyelashes. Sam looked down at you sympathetically, stroking your hair.   
“Oh, my poor sweet baby,” he fussed over you, rubbing the tips of his fingers up and down your back. “Let me go get your smell-good lotion, so I can help some of those bruises not hurt so much, okay?”  
“Uh-uh,” you said, shaking your head. Sam looked at you, confused. “Your lotion, please? Smells like you,” you explained shyly, staring down down at the comforter.   
Sam smiled, nodding, “Of course, baby. I’ll be right back.” He slipped into his room to find his lotion while you waited for him on the bed. He tried to move as quickly as possible, knowing you hated being without him in your current fragile state of mind. He snatched the lotion from his nightstand. It wasn’t like he was in his room often anymore; he always slept with you in your room, but he still kept most of his stuff here.  
He jogged back down the hall to where you were waiting on the bed. “Okay, little love, do you wanna keep the robe on or take it off?” You began shrugging off the robe as an answer, and Sam helped you untangle yourself from it before laying it over the back of the chair near your bed. He knelt on the bed next to you and pumped some of the lotion into his hands.  
“This might be a little cold, darling,” he murmured before rubbing the lotion gingerly onto the backs of your thighs. You whimpered a little because of the cold lotion and Sam’s hands moving up to soothe the skin on your ass. He looked at the bright red skin where he’d left handprints a little while ago. He winced as you did when his hands passed over it, questioning if he’d gone a little too far. He rubbed the lotion in gently until your skin felt smooth and no longer as hot as it had been before.  
He looked at your face, turned towards him, resting on the comforter. Your eyes were closed peacefully, and he knew you were ready to go to sleep. He turned off all the lights, and whispered gently to you, “C’mon, honey. Let’s get you under the covers so you can get some rest, huh?”   
You nodded sleepily and yawned as he lifted you up to his chest, pulled back the covers, and tucked you in, your head now resting on the pillow. You looked at him with droopy eyes and reached towards him, opening and closing your hands, wanting him to cuddle you.  
He did the gesture back before walking to the other side of the bed and climbing under the blankets himself. He pulled you gently into his arms, and you let your head rest on his chest, listening to the steady beat of his heart, allowing it to soothe you. Sam stroked your hair, kissed the top of your head, and hummed, “Was everything okay tonight, my little Valentine? I wasn’t too rough on you, was I?”  
You shook your head barely, exhausted, but wanting him to know how much you’d enjoyed it, “Nuh-uh, it was perfect, Sam. You’re always perfect.”  
“I don’t know about always perfect,” he chuckled softly, hugging you tightly to him. “But I do love you, princess.”  
“I love you, too,” you sighed happily, nuzzling your cheek against him.   
He kissed your head once more, “Go to sleep, lovey. Got lots of time together to catch up on tomorrow, hmm?”  
You didn’t answer. Your breath had deepened and steadied as you slipped off into sleep. Sam smiled to himself at how peaceful you looked. Yeah, no more separate hunts for a while, he thought, before he too drifted into a dreamless sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> a/n: Thank you so much for reading!! Please consider leaving me a comment :))

**Author's Note:**

> a/n: thank you SO SO much for reading!! If you've got thoughts, please please leave them in the comments for me, and if you liked it, you're welcome to come say hi on tumblr @treat-winchesterswith-kindness :))


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